It was announced today that John Micklethwait is becoming the 16th editor of The Economist in its history of 165 years.
THE Economist Group’s board of directors has chosen John Micklethwait as the 16th editor of The Economist, succeeding Bill Emmott on April 1st.
Before officially stepping down, Bill was interviewed, taking a look back to his 26 years career with the newspaper.
Why did you want to write for The Economist in the first place?
BE: I subscribed at school, while I was doing ‘A’ level economics—that was when I first learned about The Economist. I did economics initially because I thought it would be useful, but actually the point of economics is to tell you how people behave and what makes the world work. It’s the study of human behaviour, even if most often expressed through money. I started reading The Economist because my teacher told us that it was a good idea. The Economist is about why the world works in the way it does, what’s going to happen, and why it’s going to happen. I think that combination of economics and The Economist started my curiosity about the world, and started me thinking that being a journalist might be a good thing for me. While The Economist wasn’t the only publication I thought I might enjoy working for, it was an obvious candidate.
Has it lived up to your expectations? Where has it exceeded them? BE: It has hugely exceeded them. I’ve been writing for The Economist now for 26 years. It’sbeen an extraordinary education. Perhaps the thing I didn’t understand is how it would send me all around the world and that I would be able to learn about countries all around the world. Not just Japan and Brussels where I worked, but also all the places that I visited as finance editor and as business affairs editor, then since as editor. In a given year, I might be over in Chile, India, Italy or Australia, always learning something about the ways the politics and economy work. A fantastic education! The quality of writing and thinking has got better and better, but it’s always been of a higher standard than I could have imagined. I think we all learn from each other. I don’t think that I ever imagined, before I came to work at The Economist, how much fun it would be. I didn’t think that The Economist, from the title and the subject matter, would actually be fun. Yet as Stephen Hugh Jones wrote in the Independent on Sunday, laughter is the most commonly heard noise, especially among the editorial people. It’s been wonderful.
Who has made the greatest impression on you here? Who took you under their wing when you started?Was there any one writer whose style you consciously emulated?
BE: I think in my early days as an Economist journalist, the two most striking people were the editor and the deputy editor. The deputy editor, Norman Macrae, was strikingly bold in his writing and judgments, never scared to come up with a strong point of view about what was happening and where it was leading, or what it might mean. There was a great contrarian streak in what he wrote, and hehad a strong interest in Japan, having written quite seminal articles in The Economist as early as 1962, and then again in 1968. So I would say Norman was a very strong journalistic influence. Andrew Knight, my first editor, the man who hired me, was also a strong influence. I think what always impressed me about Andrew as an editor was the strong backing that he gave to his journalists. I remember being in Brussels and we had a complaint from an EU Commissioner about something, and Andrew backed us to the hilt, and indeed wrote a wonderful letter to the commissioner, accusing him, accurately, of not telling the truth. Just the fact that we were supported in that way was a great morale-booster. One thing about Andrew as a manager was that he cared about people and made a conscious effort to know everybody, to know their names and what they were interested in. That was, I think, very striking for me as a young journalist, who didn’t really expect to be well known by the big boss. The person who took me under their wing when I started was Dick Leonard, my bureau chief in Brussels. A former Labour MP and experienced writer, he was amazingly tolerant of this bumptious young scribbler, who had no experience either of journalism or the world outside university. Yet he was always encouraging and, most important, generously gave me the space to write and to learn, even at the expense of what he might have written himself.
What are you most proud of, during your time here?
BE: A weekly paper over 26 years—that’s 26 x 50 issues, so it’s very hard to single out any one thing that I’m most proud of. But I think the general point that I’m most proud of as editor is that the quality, authoritativeness and reliability of what we write has just gone up and upduring that time. I think The Economist has always been good but expectations among our readers have increased, as they’ve got more and more information about what’s going on in the world, particularly all around the world, and in response to that I think that we’ve both built a global network of correspondents AND maintained and even raised the quality of what they do. I think that’s the fundamental thing I’m most proud of. I could, however, list some other particular things—I’m very proud of the way we’ve achieveda high profile and a good reputation in countries other than Britain, not just as a publication in which to read about the rest of the world, but to read about their own countries. Look at the reputation we have in Italy because of all the coverage we’ve given Silvio Berlusconi and his misdemeanours—we now have a really prominent position in Italy as a respected commentator and writer about Italy. I think we have the same position in America, that we’ve become something that people want to read about America, and that’s a very important achievement of the paper. Finally, I think what’s always been important about The Economist is our willingness to take bold and sometimes unconventional positions that are in line with our liberal principles. Under my predecessor, supporting the legalisation of drugs was one. Under me, probably supporting the legal recognition of gay marriage was the big one, which symbolised the highly principled and sometimes unconventional character of The Economist. What have you got most wrong? Are there any stories that you missed covering?
BE: I don’t think there’s any area that I feel that we got consistently wrong. The thing about a weekly paper is that you may make a mistake in one issue, but then you can write about it again in the next issue. I think that we were quite slow to support outside intervention in the Balkan wars and that was probably a mistake. We should have been more aggressive about the need for the west to intervene sooner. Similarly, many of our readers think that, for Iraq, we were too enthusiastic to have outside intervention there. I still think that ours was the rightposition to take. We may have been a little impatient about the timing of the invasion, but I think it was definitely the right position, based on what we knew at the time. What makes The Economist different?
BE: Firstly, we are very international. Secondly, the very clear and consistent analytical approach that we take. We’re not just reporters, we’ re not trying to reproduce what other people think. We’re trying to say, in a clear and concise manner, what we think is happening and where it’s leading. That makes The Economist quite different from other publications, because we really expect the journalists to come up with a point of view, and to express it clearly. This has the benefit of making us different, but it also makes us quite an efficient read for people who are busy. They know exactly what they’re getting from The Economist, it’s very clear what our point of view is, and our articles are relatively short. We don’t confuse people with a lot of blather, quotes and so forth from outsiders. Vanity Fair famously described you as “sphinxlike”. How do you feel about that?
BE: Well, the sphinx still exists in Egypt, all those centuries later, so I think it’s a compliment—certainly in terms of endurance! It might mean that my nose falls off, though!
Outsiders see The Economist as being a very traditional place —it’s been compared to an Oxbridge common room. Is this fair? How have we managed to combine tradition with financial success?
BE: Well, I don’t think we are traditional, really. I think that we’re irreverent; I think that we have unconventional positions, such as on gay marriage, or drug legalisation. I put an obscene gesture on the cover, as a cactus, and we had camels copulating—how is this a traditional publication? I think that this is a misconception among people who don’t read us. People who do read us do not think we are traditional. That, I believe, explains the fact that we’ve got quite a young readership. Our average age of readers in America is 38, which isfive to ten years younger than those of our competitors. We have traditional values of quality and accuracy with a strong emphasis on reliability. Perhaps you could call that traditional—I call it good. It [the “traditional” label] is just wrong! The Monday editorial meetings have assumed almost legendary status. How would you describe them to those of us not involved? What’s special about them?
BE: I think laughter is what’s special about them. They’re very amusing occasions. People dohave a spirit of trying to make light of serious subjects, for one thing, and that gives them a real sense of cohesion, of “all in it together”. Secondly, I think that they’re very open, in the sense of people being willing to say what they think, for what’s very important about The Economist editorial team is that people should be able to say what they believe—such as whether they think the position I’m taking is stupid or just wrong. Or the position that somebody else is taking. They should be able to challenge each other and have the feeling, definitely, that their view is listened to. And I think that they do have that feeling, and that gives the meeting a special characteristic, because it’s such anopen discussion. The thing about journalists is that they are anarchists. Anarchy does need somebody to act as chairman, so the editor’s role is to bring a bit of discipline, both to the meeting and to the publication. The editorial meeting on Monday is an assembly of anarchists able to say anything they want, laugh about what they want, but in the end with a purpose that’s providedby the editor and by the weekly publication. The Economist Group is of course about more than the newspaper—what do you see as its other strengths?
BE: I think that its other strengths are in high quality publishing. I’m very proud that CFO has got a global brand, because it’s got very high quality editors and very good products. I think that the Economist Intelligence Unit, where of I course I spent almost nine months n 1992, as editorial director, has consistently increased its reputation as a really high-quality publisher of business information, and I think Roll Call and European Voice have done the same in their markets. What’s great about The Economist Group is that it is able to own and develop other high-quality brands, and I hope that in the future it will have a lot more. What will you miss most?
BE: It has to be the people. I think anywhere you work for any length of time, it’s a little bit like a family—rather like growing up with your brother and sister. You spend a lot of time with each other, and suddenly being away from “my family” will be very sad. I’ll miss that. So it’ll be the people and the laughter. How do you expect to feel when you leave the Tower on your last day as a member of the Group?
BE: I think I’ll feel choked. I’ll feel really strange, I really will. Do you have a message for your successor?
BE: Have fun! John